happens to me constantly.

CUTHBERTSON. There is only one excuse for you. You are not fully
responsible for your actions. Like all advanced people, you have got
neurasthenia.

CHARTERIS (appalled). Great Heavens! what's that?

CUTHBERTSON. I decline to explain. You know as well as I do. I am
going downstairs now to order lunch. I shall order it for three; but
the third place is for Paramore, whom I have invited, not for you. (He
goes out through the left hand door.)

CHARTERIS (putting his hand on Craven's shoulder). Come, Craven;
advise me. You've been in this sort of fix yourself probably.

CRAVEN. Charteris: no woman writes such letters to a man unless he has
made advances to her.

CHARTERIS (mournfully). How little you know the world, Colonel! The
New Woman is not like that.

CRAVEN. I can only give you very old fashioned advice, my boy; and
that is that it's well to be off with the Old Woman before you're on
with the New. I'm sorry you told me. You might have waited for my
death: it's not far off now. (His head droops again. Julia and
Paramore enter on the right. Julia stops as she catches sight of
Charteris, her face clouding and her breast heaving. Paramore, seeing
the Colonel apparently ill, hurries down to him with the bedside
manner in full play.)